That Matchmaker Ruth Barton
by Emery Saks
Summary: When Angie discovers Peggy is cancelling their lunch date too meet a mysterious woman named Ruth Barton, she gets a little jealous and decides to find out what this woman has that she doesn't.
1. A Mistaken List

Two months had passed since Peggy Carter successfully cleared Howard Stark of the treason charges leveled against him. In that time, she'd decided to return the SSR, had moved into one of Stark's mansion with her dear friend and was generally enjoying being able to live a life without as many secrets as before.

She'd spent the last week catching up on paperwork, as the events involving Leviathan had put her woefully behind on that aspect of her job. Why, it was only yesterday she'd finally managed to give Chief Thompson the file concerning the missing milk truck and production of one of Howard's "bad babies."

Almost as if he knew she was thinking of him, Jack Thompson strolled into Peggy's peripheral vision, sauntering over to her desk and dropping a file in front of her.

"Carter. I'm going to need you to make a run back to the Daisy Clover Dairy and give it a final onceover. Top brass wants to make sure we got everything.

"Chief Thompson, I assure you, the sweep came up clean," Peggy replied. She couldn't mask the irritation in her voice and knew the man could hear it, but Thompson didn't seem to care.

"And I say I want eyes on it one last time." He folded his arms and smirked at her. "I suggest you go during your lunch hour – fewer people."

"Actually, I already have lunch plans tomorrow," she coolly informed him. Angie had practically begged her to try a new diner down on 42nd Street since she would have the day off after a morning audition.

"Cancel them."

She glared at him. "I'd rather not."

"It's not up for discussion, Carter," he told her, heading back into his office. "I want your finalized report on my desk by the end of the tomorrow."

XXX

Angie Martinelli was no detective, but she didn't need to be to know something was wrong with her roommate. Although nobody would ever call Peggy Carter jovial, she generally came home in a decent-enough mood, shouting "Angie, I'm home!" as she waltzed through their front door.

Generally.

But tonight, Angie hadn't even known Peggy was home until she slinked into the kitchen and plopped herself at the dinner table. Angie knew something was wrong when Peggy slouched. Peggy _never_ slouched.

Although Angie tried, she couldn't wrestle it out of Peggy. The British woman politely thanked her when Angie slid a plate of homemade spaghetti in front of her, but she barely said a word after that. As soon as she was finished, she excused herself and announced she was retiring to the study. Angie watched her stalk away, but said nothing.

After cleaning up the dishes, she briefly contemplated joining Peggy, but when she peeked through the cracked doorway, she could see the older woman at her desk, a frown etched on her face as she scratched out something on a piece of paper. Deciding it best to give the woman some space, Angie settled herself in the living room and spent the next couple of hours memorizing lines for her upcoming audition; however when the clock chimed 9 p.m., she rose and went in search of Peggy. She was amused to find her friend no longer at the desk, but instead stretched out on the couch, fast asleep, the first few buttons of her blouse undone and her shoes neatly positioned by the edge of the rug.

Angie sighed, heart constricting as she watched Peggy sleep. There was no denying her attraction. She clung to the tiny hope that maybe the lovely British woman would someday return her feelings, but she knew that was about as likely as Broadway calling her tomorrow and casting her in a new show. After all, it wasn't likely Captain America's girlfriend would trade in an American hero for a diner waitress. Who would? Still, a girl could dream.

She wondered what thoughts were dancing through Peggy's mind as she lay there, gently snoring. Although she knew Peggy generally didn't like remaining on the couch through the night, she decided to let the woman sleep. After all, she'd had a hard day, and there was no point disturbing her when she seemed so peaceful.

Walking over to the desk, Angie reached to turn off the small lamp, but halted when she saw a woman's name elegantly written in Peggy's distinctive hand.

 _Ruth Barton – NY City, Health Inspector_

 _Tomorrow – lunch – 12:30 p.m. (fewer people onsite)_

 _Change of clothes_

 _Hairbrush_

 _Clean stockings_

 _Bobby pins_

 _Blanket_

 _Glasses_

 _Basket_

 _Sandwich_

 _*Remember Ruth's red lipstick – bloody pain getting it out of collar last time*_

Angie's cheeks grew warm. She wasn't sure who Ruth Barton was but this read like a checklist for an illicit affair. She gazed back over toward the sleeping woman. Although there had been a few moments here and there where she could've sworn Peggy was flirting, Angie had never seriously considered Peggy might be violets.

Excitement fluttered inside her at this realization. Peggy – gorgeous, intelligent, buxom Peggy Carter – liked women? Angie's mind began racing with possibilities. It'd just turned the corner of a quiet evening spent nestled in her Peggy's arms, lips gently teasing the soft skin of her neck, when everything came to a screeching halt.

 _Ruth Barton._

Angie was almost certain she'd never heard Peggy mention anyone named Ruth. So who was this woman whose name was above the love affair checklist Peggy had so elegantly detailed at her desk? A woman who apparently came before the lunch plans she and Peggy had made for tomorrow. Plans that Angie had gone to great lengths to secure after she found out she and Peggy had the same day off this week – something that rarely happened.

The hurt and jealously that coursed through her was palpable. Angie had thought, apparently naively, that maybe someday she'd get the chance to tell Peggy how she felt. But now, there was this… this health inspector to deal with. Angie scowled and bit her lower lip. Peggy was always telling Angie she believed in her, that it was only a matter of time before Broadway came calling, and Angie believed her. Had something changed? Was Angie not good enough for her now? Sure, she was only a waitress right now, but she was going places. And yeah, a city health inspector was several steps up from pouring people's coffee, but _she was going places_!

Angie scrunched up her nose. What did this Ruth Barton woman have that she didn't? Didn't Peggy know all she had to was ask, and Angie would be hers? Peggy could've at least had the decency to let Angie know she wasn't going to be able to make it tomorrow but she hadn't said a single word all night.

Suddenly, letting Peggy sleep didn't seem like so great an idea. Angie wanted answers and by gosh, Peggy was going to give them to her. She leaned over her roommate and gave her shoulder a not-so-subtle shove. "Peggy."

Peggy stirred but didn't wake up, so Angie nudged her again, a little harder this time. "Peggy, wake up."

Peggy's brows furrowed into a frown, and she muttered, "Go away. I'm sleeping."

 _Oh, so that's how we're going to play this_ , Angie fumed, eyebrow arched. She gave Peggy a long hard stare, then bent down and placed her lips next to Peggy's ear, until they were almost touching the outer shell.

"MARGARET CARTER! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!"

Angie leapt back as Peggy bolted up off the couch, eyes wide in panic, fists swinging. When she realized no one was attacking her, she turned around and stared at Angie, concern etched into her features.

"Angie! Good Lord! What's wrong?!"

Angie folded her arms and gave Peggy an unimpressed stare. "Nothing's wrong."

Peggy gaped at her incredulously. "Then why in God's name did you scream my name?"

"I tried waking up you nice, but you weren't budging," Angie shrugged. "Had to resort to more drastic measures."

Peggy's eyes narrowed. "You _had_ to?"

Angie gave her an innocent look. "You're the one who told me not to let you sleep on the couch again."

Peggy pursed her lips. "Yes, but that's not what –"

"And you're up now, so mission accomplished," Angie cut in. "Anyhow, I'm heading up to bed, English."

Peggy swung her feet to the floor and glowered at her. "Well, you're in a cross mood."

Angie scoffed. "This from the woman who, up until 10 minutes ago, hasn't said more than ten words to me all night."

Peggy had the good grace to blush and lower her eyes. "Ah yes. I had a rather poor day at the office and –"

"It's fine," Angie muttered, waving a hand in Peggy's direction as she turned and walked toward the door. When she reached it, she spun around and leveled a piercing look at Peggy.

"Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"

Peggy looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Actually, I meant to discuss that with you."

"Yeah?"

Peggy bit her lower lip and frowned. "I'm terribly sorry, Angie, but I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to make it. Something came up."

"You get a better offer?" Angie fired back.

Peggy's eyes widened. "What? No, of course not!" she protested. "Why would you think that?"

Angie merely shrugged. "Kinda' crummy to up and cancel our plans this late, Pegs. But you know what? That's fine."

Peggy stood up. "Angie, I can assure you-"

Angie turned and waved dismissively. "No, it's fine, Peggy. I know a brush off when I see it."

Peggy started to protest again, but Angie was already out the door closing it behind her with a resounding thud.


	2. A Woman Scorned

When Angie woke up at 4 a.m. the next morning, she was still fuming over Peggy's lie from the night before. The fact that she couldn't fall back asleep made that much easily apparent. As she lay staring up at the ceiling, she replayed the events of the previous evening over and over in her head. Angie could understand why Peggy had kept things from her before she knew about the whole secret agent gig, but she thought those days were finally past them.

Apparently not.

Deep down, Angie knew it wasn't even Peggy cancelling their lunch that hurt. It was the fact that Peggy had thrown her over for another woman.

Ruth Barton.

Angie's lip curled in derision. She'd never even met the lady, but Angie knew she didn't like her. How could she when she was trying to take Peggy Carter away from her?

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and Angie violently swiped them away. She would _not_ cry. Not over this. She'd nursed a broken heart before, and she'd managed to survive. She could do it again.

Angie sighed and sat up. Who was she kiddin'? Yeah, she'd had her heart broken before, but she'd never had feelings for anyone else like she had for Peggy. There was just something about the English woman that made Angie's heart soar.

Her thoughts drifted back to Ruth Barton. Who was this woman who thought she could come in and take Angie's place in Peggy's life? Had she stayed up to the wee hours of the morning waiting for Peggy to return home from some top secret mission? Where was she when Peggy needed someone to tend to her wounds after being involved in yet another fight? How many times had she sat and listened when Peggy vented about her fathead male coworkers? Angie was betting it wasn't near the number of times she herself had done all of that.

Angie Martinelli had a vested interest in Peggy Carter that Ruth Barton simply could not and would never have.

She turned that thought over in her head and chewed on her bottom lip. She'd invested too much time in her friendship with Peggy Carter to let some other woman come in and snatch her away.

Sure, Peggy might think she wanted this Ruth woman, but Angie would be damned if she let her go without a fight. Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, she threw back the covers and slid off the mattress, padding toward the bathroom.

First things first – she needed to get dressed and be out of the house before Peggy stirred. She was in no mood to listen to Peggy's flimsy excuses and knew if she stayed, she'd probably say something she would later regret. That meant no breakfast here, but she could grab something at the Automat. Then, she would have to figure out a way to get to the Daisy Clover Dairy. If she was going to fight for her girl, she needed to see this Ruth Barton and learn what she was up against. She wasn't quite sure how exactly to go about that, but if all else failed, she could simply show up at the dairy and ask for Peggy. Angie knew that probably wouldn't go over well with her secretive best friend, but at this point, what else did she have to lose?

Stepping inside her bathroom with a determined glint in her eye, Angie Martinelli gazed at the confident Italian woman who stared back at her from the bathroom mirror.

Ruth Barton wouldn't know what hit her.


	3. The Return of Ruth Barton

The shrill clanging of the alarm clock was the last thing Peggy wanted to hear at 6 a.m., but years of regimented training had her rolling out of bed and within minutes, she was grunting with exertion while she completed her morning exercises.

As she pushed her body to and from the carpeted floor, her mind kept replaying the events of the previous evening. She should've followed Angie and tried to explain, but her roommate had been so angry, and Peggy had been somewhat confused by her reaction. While she knew Angie had taken extra effort to plan their lunch, Peggy felt her response to the cancellation was a bit unwarranted.

Peggy hoped Angie would be calmer at breakfast, and perhaps be amenable to rescheduling for dinner that evening, but when she trudged downstairs an hour later, her roommate was nowhere to be seen. Thinking perhaps she might still be sleeping, Peggy crept back upstairs and gently opened Angie's door, poking her head inside and scanning the darkened room. Angie's bed was neatly made, and her bathroom door stood open, but the room was empty. Peggy frowned.

 _Where the devil was she?_

Checking the table in the hallway proved fruitless, too. Angie had left no note. Peggy sighed in frustration. It was apparent her roommate was still quite upset with her if she'd disappeared before 7 a.m. and left no mention of where she was going.

Peggy briefly entertained the notion that perhaps she'd merely stepped out for a moment but knew she was grasping at possibilities. Still, it was better than the alternative – that Angie had left this morning still seething.

Feeling defeated, she returned to the kitchen and set about making her tea and toast. As Peggy sat at the table, half-heartedly nibbling on the jam-slathered bread, she realized it was no use pretending that Angie would return home before she left. Peggy felt her heart constrict. She'd inadvertently hurt someone who meant the world to her, and she couldn't set about correcting it because she had to go on some wild goose chase for a man who didn't even respect her. Life really could be rather unfair at times, she mused in a rare moment of self-pity.

When the clock eventually chimed 11 a.m., Peggy knew she'd waited as long as she dared. With a sigh, she retrieved her sandwich from the refrigerator and left the house, locking the doors securely behind her. It was all she could do to muster a smile for Mr. Jarvis, who stood in the building lobby, waiting patiently for her.

"And where are we off to, today, Miss Carter?" he inquired when Peggy stepped out of the elevator.

"Unfortunately, I need to return to the dairy we visited a few months ago, Mr. Jarvis. Do you remember it?" Peggy asked as she strode through the double doors and out to where the car lay nestled against the curb.

"I do," he replied, trailing behind her. Surprise colored the lanky man's features when he managed to open the passenger door for her before Peggy could do it herself, and she knew that particular lapse  
would not go unnoticed.

Indeed, as soon as he slid behind the wheel, her friend glanced over and quietly asked, "Is something bothering you, Miss Carter?"

Peggy shook her head. "I'm afraid it's nothing you can fix, Mr. Jarvis," she sighed, "But I do appreciate your concern."

Jarvis said nothing, but Peggy could feel his anxious eyes on her the entire ride to the dairy and she knew they matched her own apprehensive gaze.

XXX

By the time Peggy arrived at the Daisy Clover Dairy, the majority of employees had already left for lunch, just as Peggy had hoped they would. Jarvis waited with the car, which Peggy had asked him to park away from the dairy, so she could make an understated entrance and avoid any unnecessary questions about her mode of transportation.

As she approached the loading docks, she spied the same foreman she'd dealt with on her previous trip and consulted her clipboard. She found the words "Mr. Bryan" neatly written in her meticulous script in the upper left-hand corner of the page.

Ah yes, now she remembered.

It was obvious the middle-aged man remembered her, too, because the instant he saw her, a pained expression crept across his features, and he hurried over to greet her.

"Miss Barton!" he exclaimed. "I thought you agreed to give us _advance_ warning next time you were coming out here."

Peggy scowled, her brows furrowing in displeasure. "I made no such promise, Mr. Bryan." She retrieved a piece of paper from her coat and quickly waved it in front of him before tucking it back inside her jacket pocket. "My supervisor has requested an immediate inspection of all trucks used within the last four days, and I'll need to see the interior storage facilities this time, as well."

The man blanched at her words, swiping a nervous hand across his brow, but when he spoke, his tone was mildly combative.

"Ah, gee, Miss Barton, I don't know if that's such a good idea. See, I got bawled out the last time you inspected us – something about the department not giving us any advance notice – and I don't know if my boss would approve of you snooping around without him being here or knowing about it. "

Peggy's eyes narrowed behind the tortoise-colored frames perched on his her nose. "First off, Mr. Bryan, I don't _snoop_ , and frankly I'm insulted by that insinuation," she huffed. "Secondly, I can assure you my supervisor notified your supervisor of my visit. It's not my problem if he didn't tell you, and I don't have the time to wait for him to get back and give you permission. If I don't have this time within the next hour, I'll have to call my boss and explain who prevented me from accomplishing my task. Believe me, you don't want me to make that call. " She took in a deep breath and fixed him with a steely glare. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

The foreman looked around nervously, and Peggy knew he was weighing her threat with the reaction of his own supervisor. She schooled her features into a disinterested air and began impatiently tapping her foot. If the man didn't cave, she would have to come up with another plan, and to be honest, she wasn't quite sure what it would be. Just when she thought she might have to resort to breaking and entering, the man gave a heavy sigh and shook his head.

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed, and Peggy gave him a grim smile.

"Good answer."

"But," he continued, raising a hand, "I'm gonna' accompany you."

Peggy's smile morphed into a frown. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Bryan. I'm sure I can find what I need–"

But the man wasn't having any of it. "That's the deal, lady. Either I stay with you, or we wait until my boss returns."

Peggy glared at him but didn't see that she had any other option. Giving him a curt nod, she walked over to the nearest truck and gave the wheel a swift kick.

"I see you still haven't put any air in this tire," she scowled, placing a checkmark in a box on her list.

Mr. Bryan pursed his lips and stared at her. Peggy stared back.

"Lucas," he shouted, finally breaking the stalemate. "Get over here and make sure all of the tires have an accurate PSI." He turned back to stare at Peggy. "Happy, Miss Barton?"

"Hardly," Peggy sniffed and proceeded to the next vehicle.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes, she tried everything she could to bore the man into leaving her alone for just a few minutes, but the foreman was taking no chances this time and stayed annoyingly glued to her side. Peggy was beginning to think this trip was a complete waste when a young man popped his head out the door and yelled down to the loading dock.

"Mr. Bryan! There's some dame here asking to speak to the guy in charge."

Peggy looked up, hope sparking in her. Perhaps this was her chance.

"Tell her she's gonna' have to wait, Harry."

Harry bit his lip and jerked his head back toward the office. "I don't know, Mr. Bryan, you might want to come see what she wants," he called back. "She's a real looker!"

Peggy's jaw tightened, and she glared at the young man. "He is aware the _looker_ can most likely hear him?" she seethed, directing her comment to the man by her side.

Mr. Bryan had the good grace to look embarrassed before yelling back, "I'm coming, and for God's sake, Harry, shut your trap!"

He turned and headed toward the stairs, and Peggy used the opportunity to start moving toward the warehouse door. But before she could get more than a few feet, Bryan turned around and pointed to a man in overalls near one of the trucks. "Winston! Go keep Ms. Barton company until I get back."

The man in question sauntered over and gave Peggy a suggestive grin. She stared back, cold as ice, and folded her arms across her chest. "I do _not_ require an escort."

Winston just grinned and tucked his thumbs into his overalls. "Boss' orders, lady."


	4. Meeting Ruth Barton

Getting from Manhattan to the semi-rural New York countryside had been a lot harder than Angie expected. No cabbie she flagged down would agree to take her out there, so she finally resorted to calling in the favor Martha owed her from that time she'd helped her sneak a fella in through the laundry room of the Griffith. Truth be told, she still wasn't sure how he'd managed to fit into that dress.

Angie waited for almost an hour at the garage on 32nd Street for Martha's kid brother to finish changing the oil on a car, but she honestly didn't mind. He was elbows deep in a brand new 1946 Nash 4648 600 Slipstream sedan, and Angie enjoyed the chance to silently marvel at the sleek six-cylinder shiny green automobile. What she wouldn't give to get her hands on one of those, she thought.

When Mickey finally finished, he motioned her around to the back of the shop. Parked near the back of the alley sat a black 1941 Special DeLuxe Plymouth. Angie gave it an appraising look as she walked over to the passenger side.

"How does it handle with that 117" wheelbase?" she asked, her eyes skimming the white walled tires.

Mickey flicked a lazy glance at her. "Not too bad."

"Huh," Angie nodded. She glanced at the hood. "Long-stoke L-head straight-six?"

Now Mickey grinned. "87 hp." He opened the door and slid in while Angie did the same. Turning on the ignition, he laughed. "Martha said you had a thing for cars."

"A little."

"Yeah, _a little_ ," he laughed and pulled the car out of the alley and onto the city street. Angie sat back and enjoyed the ride. Ever since living on her own, she hadn't had too many opportunities to enjoy a quiet drive. While the Plymouth was nothing fancy like the newer Slipstream at the garage, it ran like a charm, and Angie told Mickey as much. His pleased smile let her know her hunch that he'd put some serious time into the vehicle had been correct.

When Angie originally decided to snoop on Peggy, she'd hoped to get to the dairy at least half an hour before her roommate and the mysterious Ruth Barton were due to arrive so she could have the upper hand. But New York City being what it was, she and Mickey had sat in standstill traffic for a good hour before they finally began to make headway. As Angie watched the city zip by the window and slowly transform into rolling countryside, she considered how she might go about catching a glimpse of the enigmatic Ruth Barton. She still hadn't decided whether she wanted to catch Peggy red-handed with her or simply size up the competition.

After going back and forth several times and not coming to any reasonable conclusion, Angie opted to play it by ear when she finally got there. She glanced at her watch. It was almost 12:30, and they still had another half hour before they would reach the dairy. That was if they even got there in time. The traffic had really slowed them down. At this rate, she might miss Peggy entirely, and then where would that leave her?

"Martha says you're a wizard when it comes to cars," Angie said abruptly, turning from her thoughts to gaze at the young man seated beside her.

Mickey's lip curled into a cocky grin. "Maybe."

"Done any work on the engine?"

Mickey nodded. "A little."

Angie snorted. _A little, her ass_. Any grease monkey worth his salt would've put hours into the engine of a car like this.

"Enough to get me to the dairy in the next fifteen minutes instead of thirty?" she challenged.

Mickey looked over, an arrogant smirk spreading across his face. "Martha also said you had a thing for fast cars."

"Maybe," Angie shrugged, but her eyes glinted with mischief.

Mickey chuckled. "All right, Angie, you wanna' be there fast? I can get you there fast. Hang on, Brooklyn!" he warned and reached down to shift gears before punching the pedal to the floor. Angie felt the car dart forward and suddenly they were flying, the green hills and white signs rushing past them as the speedometer steadily climbed. 60. 70. 80. 85.

When they hit 90 mph, she let out a joyous yell, borne of pure exhilaration. Mickey would get her there in plenty of time, and she'd be able to get the information she needed to set Peggy straight about Ruth Barton.

True to his word, Mickey pulled up the dairy's long winding drive within fifteen minutes, and Angie made a mental note to treat him to a slice of pie next time Martha brought him with her to the Automat. She could see several trucks parked out by the loading docks, but she didn't see any sign of Peggy, although she did catch a brief glimpse of some rather shapely legs that disappeared into a white coat tucked behind one of the trucks, but the woman was gone as soon as Mickey rounded the corner and stopped in front of the building.

He shifted the car to park and glanced at Angie. "Need me to wait?"

"Nah," Angie said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You've done enough already, Mickey. If things don't work out the way I hope, I can always call a friend. He's usually around in the afternoons." She frowned. "Not quite sure where he was this morning, but I'll make do."

Mickey nodded and looked thoughtful. "You know, Angie, you should come by the garage sometime. I can show some of the other improvements I've made on this baby."

Angie grinned and bit her lower lip. "I just might take you up on that, Mickey. It's been a while since I've gotten my hands dirty." She stepped out of the car and shut the door before leaning back through the window. "Tell Martha we're good now, okay?"

"Will do," he promised, waiting for her to step back before shifting the car into reverse.

Angie watched as Mickey pulled away before turning around to face the building. She still wasn't quite sure how this was going to work, but she was here, so there was nothing left to do but go inside and see if she could size up the competition. She put on her biggest smile, sauntered up the steps and breezed through the doorway. A young man was just entering the office when she walked in, and she had to smother a smile when he did a double-take at her entrance.

"Well, good afternoon!" he drawled. "What can I do for such a pretty lady?"

Angie beamed and moved to the counter, settling her elbows on it. It was now or never, she thought.

"Hi there!" she beamed. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, but to be honest, I'm not even sure I have the right place."

"Well, I sure hope you do," he replied, leaning in closer. "Who you looking for?"

"Well my friend Peggy said we were supposed to meet here," Angie explained, opting for a half-truth since that seemed like the safest option.

The young man nodded. "Peggy, huh? Don't know anyone by that name." He jerked a thumb toward the side door. "Only dame on the property right now is a health inspector."

Angie felt her heart begin to race. "Ruth Barton?" she asked, hoping the quaver in her voice didn't give her away.

Apparently it didn't, because the man grinned. "Yeah, that's the one. You know her?"

"She's my, uh, supervisor," Angie lied. "I didn't realize that's who we were meeting, though! Can I just pop out there for a minute?" she asked, heart pounding in her chest.

"Nope, sorry," he apologized. "No one's allowed out there without permission."

Angie gave him her biggest smile. "Well then, how about you let me speak to whoever can give me permission?" She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed.

The young man grinned. "Let me get Mr. Bryan. He's the foreman," he explained, sauntering over the door and opening it to yell, "Mr. Bryan! There's some dame here asking to speak to the guy in charge."

Angie listened as he conversed with someone outside and bit back a smile when he called her a real looker. She might not swing that way, but it was always nice to be noticed.

Within a minute, an older man strolled through the doorway, a dour expression on his face; however, when he saw Angie, his expression became a little less severe, and after instructing the young man to wait outside on the dock, he turned back to Angie with a faint smile.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked.

Angie took a deep breath. It was now or never. She prayed to God her acting skills would see her through the blatant tale she was about to weave.

"I'm from the City Health Inspectors office, and I'm supposed to meet Miss Barton today," she began, but abruptly stopped when she him wince at the sound of the other woman's name.

"Another one? The one out there is bad enough," he grumbled before eyeing her appraisingly. "You don't look like no health inspector," he said.

"That's because I'm not!" Angie replied with a laugh. "I'm only an assistant. Miss Barton's assistant, actually. But I was just assigned to her office yesterday, so she probably wasn't even told I was coming," she explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet and giving him her sunniest smile. "But I have this paperwork I'm supposed to give her," she patted her purse, "and the boys back at the office will kill me if she doesn't get it, so maybe you could just point me in her direction? I promise to be in and out faster than you can say _city bureaucracy_!"

Angie knew it was a stretch, and she wasn't quite sure what she'd even do if she did get a chance to come face to face with Miss Barton. But she could figure that out later. Right now, she just wanted the opportunity to see her.

Mr. Bryan gave her another glance. "How come you don't have a white coat like she does?"

Angie shrugged her shoulders and smiled deprecatingly. "Just an assistant."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, they never think about the little guys, do they?" he retorted before pausing. "Or ladies, in your case," he added with an apologetic smile. "C'mon. Miss Barton's outside. I'll take you to her." He motioned for Angie to follow him out of the door.

Angie gave him her brightest smile and trailed behind him. "As long as you're sure, Mr. Bryan," she said. "I don't want to cause any problems for you."

"It's not a problem at all," he assured her. "Miss Barton is right over here." He pointed to a slender woman wearing a white lab coat who was currently turned away from them.

Angie started to reply, but the sentence died in her throat when Miss Barton turned around, and Angie found herself staring into the surprised eyes of Peggy Carter.


	5. Explanations and Revelations

Peggy had the sneaking suspicion getting into Fort Knox would be easier than stepping onto the main floor of the Daisy Clover Dairy. After Mr. Bryan had departed, she'd unsuccessfully tried to shake the lanky man he'd left behind with her. Peggy had just reached the conclusion she was going to have to leave and sneak back in some other way, when the distinctive sound of heels on concrete echoed across the dock, immediately followed by the suddenly eager-to-please voice of Mr. Bryan.

"It's not a problem at all," she heard him say. "Miss Barton is right over here."

Peggy whirled around at the mention of her alias and barely managed to contain a yelp of surprise when she found Angie Martinelli standing a mere three feet away, gazing at her in wide-eyed shock, standing beside the foreman who had a finger pointed directly at her. Angie's eyes roved up and down taking in her disguise, and Peggy could practically see the excitement dancing in her roommate's bright blue eyes as things began falling into place.

Angie recovered quickly, though, and hastily schooled her features into some semblance of normalcy. Affecting a bright smile, she quickly stepped forward and gushed, "Oh goodness, Miss Barton! I thought I'd missed you!"

Peggy, to her credit, didn't miss a beat. "Obviously you did not," she replied, her eyes narrowing to slits. "And you are?"

If Angie was astonished by Peggy's hitherto unknown American accent, she was doing a stellar job of hiding it, because instead of faltering under Peggy's withering gaze, she smoothly stepped forward and held out a hand. "Oh, how silly of me!" she exclaimed. "Hayworth. Gloria Hayworth"

Peggy's eyebrows shot up at the obvious Hollywood alias, but the flirtatious wink that accompanied the name threw her off kilter. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Hayworth; however I must say I'm surprised to see you here," her smile was tight as she tried to contain her irritation and confusion at Angie's unexpected presence. "Nobody said anything about sending an extra set of eyes."

Angie merely cocked her head and smiled, and damn it, if that impish grin wasn't doing the most delightful things to Peggy.

"Oh, I just knew it," Angie laughed before turning to give Mr. Bryan a megawatt smile. "Didn't I say they probably didn't tell her?"

"You sure did," he agreed with an idiotic grin.

Peggy watched, fascinated, as Angie flawlessly ingratiated herself with the man. Her mind was reeling at Angie's appearance. Part of her was thrilled to see her friend effortlessly work her charm on the grumpy foreman, but the other part – the SSR Agent part – was annoyed Angie had the audacity to show up in the middle of an undercover assignment and waltz in like nothing was amiss.

It was that portion which caused her to turn a bland smile on both Angie and the foreman.

"Now that you're here, Miss Hayworth, we'll need to see the interior storage facilities. Once that's finished, my colleague and I will be on our way." She raised an eyebrow, as if silently daring Mr. Bryan to challenge her, and was somewhat surprised when he actually did so.

"I don't know, Miss Barton. Last time after you left, I got an earful from the boss about proper protocols." He scratched at his shirt. "Might be best to wait until he gets back from lunch and make sure it's okay with him."

Peggy bit back the scream that threatened to escape her lips. The last thing she needed was for the dairy manager to show up and call in to check her non-existent credentials.

Angie must've sensed this, because the next thing Peggy knew, the young woman had taken the older man by the arm and was giving him her most winning smile.

"Oh gee, Mr. Bryan," she tutted. "We're on a super tight schedule and Miss Barton and me have three more facilities to visit before we can call it a day. If we have to wait for your boss, we'll never get home." She stuck out her lower lip in a pout Peggy had to admit was irresistible.

Mr. Bryan obviously thought so, too.

"That doesn't seem very fair, Miss Hayworth," he said.

Angie leaned closer. "It really doesn't, does it?"

He grinned at Angie, and patted her hand. "You know what, Miss Hayworth? I think I can make an exception this one time. After all, you probably have a fella you'd like to get home to?"

Peggy gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the clipboard she was holding. It was obvious what the man was fishing for, but Angie just laughed and batted her eyes.

"Nope, no fella, but maybe we can talk once Miss Barton and I are through," she coyly suggested.

Peggy didn't bother to wait for the man's reply. Grasping Angie's upper arm, she gracelessly dragged her over to the main door. "Come along, Miss Hayworth! As you said, we have several more stops to make this afternoon," she said pushing her through the heavy door.

Peggy yanked Angie inside the first room they came to which happened to be a rather cramped storage closet. As soon as the door closed behind them, she whirled around and glared at Angie, fists balled against her hips.

"What the _bloody hell_ do you think you're doing?" she hissed, all traces of her American accent completely gone.

Angie was nonplussed. "Well, I thought that was pretty obvious, English. I followed you."

"Yes, I can see that," Peggy practically spat. "What I want to know is _why_? Whatever possessed you to follow me especially knowing what I do?"

Angie stared at her in disbelief. "We make plans three weeks in advance and then you up and cancel on me for some woman named Ruth Barton and then flat out lie to me about it. You think I'm not gonna' follow you and see what's going on?"

Peggy sighed and raised her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Ruth Barton is one of my aliases."

"I know that _now_ ," Angie retorted, rolling her eyes as if Peggy had just told her the most obvious thing in the world.

"But what if she wasn't?" Peggy countered, anger creeping back in. "What if there really were a Ruth Barton? What would you have done then?"

Angie shrugged. "I guess I would've winged it."

" _Winged_ _it_?" Peggy asked incredulously. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Angie folded her arms across her chest and frowned at her accusingly. "More ridiculous than canceling plans with your supposed best friend and then not even having the decency to let her know?"

Peggy averted her eyes at that and blushed. "I truly am sorry about that," she mumbled, picking at a fingernail and looking anywhere except at her friend.

Angie sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth last night when I asked?"

Peggy frowned and shook her head. "I don't know," she exhaled noisily and then backtracked, shoulders slumping as she began to speak again. "That's not exactly true. I do know why." She took a step closer and reached out, taking Angie's hand in hers. "Angie, athough this business with Leviathan seems to be finished, there's always the small possibility we might have overlooked something."

Angie bit her lower lip. "Is that why you're here today?"

Peggy nodded. "Thompson insisted I do one last sweep of the facility to ensure nothing was left behind or ignored."

Angie glanced away. "Again, you could've just told me, Peg."

"I could have," Peggy admitted, her thumb absently stroking Angie's smooth skin. "But I didn't, and that's because you are already far more involved in my work than I ever wanted or intended."

"Geez, thanks a lot," Angie muttered.

Peggy chuckled and tugged the younger woman closer. "That's not what I mean, Angie, and you know it."

"Then what do you mean?" Angie asked, somewhat perturbed, and God help her, if Peggy didn't find her petulant tone endearing.

"I mean, you matter to me, Angie Martinelli," Peggy smiled, her earlier frustration melting away as she realized Angie's foolish actions stemmed from insecurity rather than curiosity. "You've already done so much for me – covering for me at the Griffith with Daniel and Thompson, patching me up when I come home bruised and beaten, listening when I need a compassionate ear." She glanced down and swallowed hard. "You do far too much, far more than I deserve."

"Now hold on right there, Peggy Carter," Angie huffed and reached out with both hands to place them firmly on Peggy's cheeks until she was forced to meet her gaze. "This isn't a contest. We're not keeping points on who's done what for who," she informed her. "Cuz if we were, you'd have close to a million by now."

"Angie," Peggy began, but stopped when Angie's fingers slid along her skin to cover her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise at the intimate gesture.

"Hush, English," Angie murmured. "Let's see here. You waltz into the L&L and become my confidante, encourage me to pursue my dreams of a Broadway career, give me a swanky place to live – rent free, I might add – and if that weren't enough, you threaten handsy creeps with forks… yeah, don't think I don't know about that," Angie smirked when Peggy's eyebrows arched in surprise. She brought her face closer to Peggy's and smiled affectionately. "It's not a contest, Pegs, but I ain't given you nothin' you haven't already given me. All right?"

Peggy stared, enamored with Angie's close proximity and the praise she'd heaped on her. She managed to nod her head but bit back a sigh of disappointment when Angie's hands slowly slid away from her cheeks and the younger woman stepped away, putting distance between them again.

It took a moment for Peggy to gather her thoughts, but when she did, an apologetic smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I'm sorry, Angie. I should've told you."

"Yeah, you should've," Angie agreed. "Apology accepted."

Peggy waited a moment, eyebrow lifted expectantly.

"What?" Angie asked.

"Aren't you going to apologize for following me?"

"And miss the opportunity to see you all dolled up like some scientist _and_ hear you do an American accent?" Angie grinned impishly. "Not on your life, English!"

Peggy sighed. "Angie."

"Peggy," her friend mimicked teasingly before stepping close again and fingering the lapel of Peggy's white lab coat. Angie's blue eyes darkened and her demeanor changed as she pulled Peggy close again. "I gotta admit, Peg, I might've followed you for reasons more than just bein' curious about Ruth Barton."

Peggy felt her heart flutter. "O-oh?"

Angie nodded. "Yeah."

Peggy watched Angie reach up and slowly finger the right earpiece of her tortoise-colored glasses. "I ain't never seen you in specs before."

"I don't actually need them," she confessed, trying to keep her mind focused on the conversation at hand, something that became increasingly harder when Angie reached up and gently slid the glasses from Peggy's face before carefully folding them and placing them on a nearby shelf.

Angie smirked. "That's a shame. Ya' look good in 'em." She was still hovering close by, and her free hand came up to grasp the other lapel of Peggy's coat.

"You're not trying to change the subject, by chance, are you Miss Martinelli?" Peggy managed to ask in a somewhat steady voice.

Angie shook her head. "Nope. Why?"

Peggy swallowed and tried to clear her head. Angie's close proximity was not helping. "I believe you were telling me your reasons for following me."

"Oh yeah," the smaller woman smiled. "I was, wasn't I?"

Peggy could only nod and watch as Angie closed the final distance between them until her body was practically touching Peggy's, and Peggy knew if she were to tilt her head down ever so slightly, she'd be able to taste the smirk gracing Angie's soft pink lips. She suddenly realized how badly she wanted to do just that.

Angie gazed up at her, smiling as if she knew exactly what was running through Peggy's mind. When she spoke, her breath ghosted across Peggy's lips.

"I wasn't planning on saying anything, Peggy, but I gotta be honest, those glasses and this starched white coat are making this girl wanna' do things."

"Th-th-things?" Peggy stuttered.

"Things," Angie affirmed before leaning up and finally capturing Peggy's lips for a gentle kiss.

A thousand sensations exploded inside Peggy as Angie's lips traced hers, and Peggy instinctively reached up to cradle the Italian woman's face within her palms eagerly kissing her back. She felt Angie's fingers curl into her coat and pull her even closer until their bodies were flush with one another. When Angie moaned at the contact, Peggy took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, delighting when that earned another moan and Angie's hands came up to land sharply against Peggy's shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric.

Peggy briefly wondered at the absurdity of the entire situation – Angie trailing her, arguing with her in a storage closet in the middle of a rural dairy and now feeling her best friend's warm body enticingly pressed against her own. It was like something out of one of those salacious novels, but when Peggy felt Angie's leg rise up to wrap around her hip, she forgot about all of that and took the opportunity to manuever them until Angie's back met the wall with a soft thud. Her startled "Oh!" allowed Peggy the chance to trail her mouth down from Angie's lips to the elegant line of her throat, her tongue tracing a lazy path that was quickly followed by playful nips.

She felt Angie's hand dance along her bare neck until her fingers sank into her hair, wrecking the bun she'd so fastidiously crafted earlier that morning, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Angie pressing against her and the eager moan that fell from her lips when Peggy's hand closed around the soft swell of her breast.

Her other hand worked its way beneath the hem of Angie's skirt, skimming along her stockings until fingertips found bare skin. She'd just started to unclasp the clips when a knock sounded on the door and Mr. Bryan's voice tenatively queried, "Uh ladies, are you planning on coming out of the closet any time soon?"

Peggy felt Angie stiffen in her embrace and when she looked up, Angie had one hand firmly clamped over her mouth in an effort to muffle the laughter that shook her.

With a calmness that surprised her, Peggy cleared her throat and steadily replied in her American accent, "We will be out momentarily, Mr. Bryan. My assistant and I are just finishing up a discussion."

Peggy glanced apologetically at Angie and gently lowered her leg back to the floor before reaching up and lovingly wiping the traces of her red lipstick from Angie's mouth and chin while Angie did her best to rearrange Peggy's hair into some semblance of a bun. Peggy captured her hands in hers as they descended and pressed her forehead to Angie's.

"I think it's best we continue this conversation when we return home tonight," she breathed.

Angie gave her a heated look and nodded. "You better believe we will."

Peggy merely nodded and leaned in for a chaste kiss, careful to not leave any lipstick behind. When she pulled away, her eyes twinkled with a happiness she hadn't felt in quite some time.

"Well then, Miss Hayworth, what say you help me finish this inspection?"

Angie grinned and raised a hand to her chest. "Why Miss Barton, I think that's a terrific idea."

Peggy rolled her eyes and stepped away. "Hush, you," she admonished, straightening her coat and retrieving her glasses. She reached for the door, but stopped, a thoughtful look coming across her face.

Angie paused. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong," Peggy said. "It's just…"

"What?"

Peggy sighed. "I just realized that if Thompson hadn't asked me to come here today, you wouldn't have gotten jealous–"

"Hey! I wasn't jealous," Angie cut in.

Peggy simply stared at her.

"Okay," Angie conceded, "Maybe I was a little jealous."

Peggy smirked.

"But can ya' blame a girl," Angie sputtered. "Besides, I didn't hear you complaining… well, initially yeah, but not after."

Peggy laughed. "As I was saying, I just realized that in some convoluted fashion, I have Jack Thompson to thank for this." She frowned. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Angie slinked forward and snaked an arm around Peggy's waist. "I think it's about time the fathead did something nice for you for a change," she informed her. She leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss against the side of Peggy's neck, and Peggy felt it race down to pool between her legs.

Clearing her throat, she gently extricated herself from Angie's embrace. "Yes, well, when you put it that way, I'm rather inclined to agree," she said, trying to calm her racing heart.

Angie grinned knowingly before reaching out to open the door and breezing out to where Mr. Bryan was waiting for them.

"Is, ah, everything all right, Miss Hayworth, Miss Barton?"

Angie grinned. "Everything's swell, Mr. Bryan. Miss Barton was just explaining a few things to me."

"In a supply closet?"

Mr. Bryan appeared confused, and Peggy honestly couldn't blame him. She was still trying to wrap her mind around everything that had just happened. Angie, however, seemed to have no difficulty with the situation.

"Sometimes you gotta' take whatever privacy you can get," Angie explained, linking her arm through his. The gesture, more than her words, seemed to pacify him, and he smiled as Angie continued. "Now, Mr. Bryan how about you come over and chat with me while Miss Barton finishes up her inspection?"

Peggy shot her a grateful look and was relieved to observe the man readily agree to Angie's plan. As she walked down the hall, she heard him ask about Angie's plans for the evening. She was just about to turn around when Angie's voice floated down the hall. When she heard the younger woman's reply, voice obviously raised so Peggy could hear, it was everything she could do to keep from tripping over her suddenly graceless feet.

"Oh, I appreciate the offer, Mr. Bryan, but something tells me regardless of what time we get outta' here, Miss Barton and I are gonna' be working real late tonight."

Peggy turned around just in time to see Angie's unrepentant grin before she disappeared around the corner on Mr. Bryan's arm, her teasing laugh floating down the hallway. Peggy allowed herself the luxury of a smile before making a mental note to make her pay for that comment later. Preferably while Angie was moaning her name.

 _Late night, indeed._


End file.
